Tormented

Two guards led Korra to the pack house the morning after her release from the cells. They made her walk barefoot along the gravel path, and her wrists still had faint bruises from the night before. Every step was a reminder of her new reality, a life bound to servitude among those who despised her.

When they reached the omega quarters behind the main hall, one of the guards shoved her lightly toward the open doorway.

“Your new home,” he sneered. “Try not to cause trouble.”

The quarters were dim and cramped, nothing like the grand mansion she had glimpsed earlier when she first arrived. A few narrow bunks lined the wall, their thin blankets rumpled and gray. The air smelled faintly of detergent and sweat. A few omegas looked up from their chores, curiosity flickering across their faces before they quickly turned away.

Korra said nothing. She kept her head bowed and her hands folded, just as she had done all her life when survival meant silence.

***************

By midday, she was assigned to scrub the hall floors. Her hands burned from the rough stone, and her knees ached from kneeling, but she worked in silence, keeping her gaze down.

The other omegas worked in pairs, laughing and chatting, tossing her curious or disdainful glances. Someone tipped a bucket near her, soaking her freshly cleaned patch in muddy water.

“Oh, sorry,” one of them, Lira, a tall girl, said with feigned sweetness. “Didn’t see you there, rogue.”

Korra simply nodded. “It’s fine.”

Her calmness seemed to annoy them more. By the time the day ended, her arms trembled from exhaustion with hunger pangs. She had not eaten since Kael’s bread the night before.

That night, when the omegas gathered for their supper, Korra sat quietly in the corner, her plate empty save for a crust of bread. Others had been served first, and by the time it got to her turn, the pot of stew was empty.

She froze, staring at the empty pot. Lira sat nearby, licking her spoon clean, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Looking for something?” Lira asked.

Korra said nothing. Her stomach growled loud enough to make the others laugh.

“Maybe she thought she would get special treatment,” another omega snickered. “Guess not.”

Korra’s hands trembled, but she didn’t move. Stay still, she told herself, don’t give them a reason to attack you.

She didn’t react. Instead, she picked at her bread, forcing herself to chew despite the dryness in her throat. 

Hunger burned, but pain was familiar; it grounded her.

************

Unbeknownst to her, Alpha Rhyker had ordered it all.

He stood by the high balcony that overlooked the courtyard, his arms folded across his chest, his piercing eyes fixed on the figures below. His beta and some pack soldiers lingered behind him, waiting.

“Has she reacted?” Alpha Rhyker asked without turning.

One of the soldiers shook his head. “No, Alpha, she doesn’t fight back and does not even speak much.”

Rhyker’s jaw tightened. “So she cowers.”

The warrior hesitated. “Yes, Alpha, she is completely submissive.”

The Alpha’s expression darkened. “Pathetic. The son of an Alpha tied to something so weak…”

He exhaled through his nose in a slow and controlled manner. “Double the tests, push her harder. Let’s see if there is anything in her worth saving.”

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances but bowed. “Yes, Alpha.”

*************

Some days passed, and Korra began to notice some more unusual and intense cruelties around her. Someone poured water into her bucket of soap, thinning it until it was useless. Another time, the fresh sheets she had just washed were tossed into the mud.

Every dawn, Korra was sent to scrub, polish, or carry heavy water buckets up the steps until her arms went numb. Her food disappeared more often than not. Her blanket was taken one night and returned the next, damp and cold.

When she passed the training field, some of the warriors jeered.

“Look at the rogue rat,” one sneered. “She should be hanged and not allowed to pollute our pack?”

Korra kept walking, her eyes downcast.

 By night, she lay awake, her body aching, her stomach gnawing with hunger. Her meals were small, often half-spoiled, and sometimes didn’t come at all. But she endured it, as she always had. 

Another evening, Korra finished her chores late. She returned to the omega quarters only to find her small bowl of stew overturned on the dirt floor. A group of young female wolves, daughters of elite warriors, stood nearby, smirking.

“Oh no,” one said with mock concern. “Did someone drop your dinner, rogue?”

Korra’s fingers twitched. Her wolf bristled deep within her, low and quiet, but she forced it down. “It’s fine,” she murmured, kneeling to clean the spill.

“Fine?” another sneered. “You think you belong here? You think anyone wants you?”

The first girl stepped closer, kicking the bowl aside. “You are nothing, just a filthy rogue who doesn’t know her place.”

Korra’s nails dug into her palms. Every instinct screamed to defend herself, to stand, to fight. But she didn’t, she couldn’t. Her father’s voice echoed through her memory, cruel and slurred, You should have died with her.

Fear had always been a leash she couldn’t break.

She lowered her gaze. “I don’t want trouble.”

The girls laughed, the sound of their laughter cutting. One of them yanked her hair, forcing her head up. “Then learn to crawl when you speak to us.”

They shoved her to the ground, their laughter trailing as they walked away.

When they were gone, Korra lay still for a moment, her breath shallow. The dirt was cool against her cheek. Shame burned hotter than pain, but she swallowed it. She had survived worse; she would survive this.

As she sat up, her wolf whispered softly in her mind: You could have fought them.

TWO WEEKS LATER

*********************

Alpha Rhyker stood at the edge of the training field one morning, arms folded, his expression hard as stone. Beside him, Beta Marek waited for orders, his eyes tracking Korra from a distance as she scrubbed the bloodied tiles near the sparring pit.

“She hasn’t fought back once,” Marek said quietly. “The others taunt her, steal her food, and shove her into walls. Nothing, not a spark.”

Rhyker’s jaw flexed. “That’s the problem.”

Marek frowned. “You ordered them to provoke her.”

“I wanted to see what she was hiding,” Rhyker said. “A wolf doesn’t survive years among rogues without learning to bite. If she’s truly harmless, she will stay silent. But if she’s faking submission,” his voice dropped, “We will find out soon enough.”

His gaze lingered on her, distant and cold. Korra looked thin, frail, almost, her hair matted from sweat and work. She bent to lift a heavy bucket, the motion slow but steady. When one of the male warriors kicked it over deliberately, spilling dirty water across her feet, she only murmured an apology and began again.

“She’s playing us,” Rhyker muttered.

Kael’s voice broke through the tension from behind. “Or maybe she’s just trying to survive.”

Both men turned. Kael stood a few paces away, his eyes locked on Korra with a storm brewing in them. His shoulders were tense, his hands curled into fists.

Rhyker’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Still watching her, are you?”

“I’m watching you,” Kael snapped. “You have made this pack into a cage. You think torment will prove anything? She is terrified, not dangerous.”

Rhyker’s voice remained calm, infuriatingly so. “If fear breaks her, she was never meant to stand beside you. If she fights, then she’s lying about what she is.”

Kael took a step forward. “You are trying to break her so you can justify hating her.”

“Careful,” Rhyker warned, his tone dropping low. “You forget your place.”

Kael’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. He knew defying his father again would only make things worse for her. Still, his eyes found Korra across the yard. When their gazes met briefly, her wolf stirred faintly inside, a flicker of warmth in an ocean of cold.

He wanted to go to her, to shield her from all of it, but he couldn’t. At least not yet.